Voyeurism
by notarealfan1
Summary: Trapped in loveless marriages, Bulma and Vegeta reluctantly follow their spouse's to swingers parties. They find pleasure/gratification in testing each other's boundaries but can they keep their promise to not fall for each other?
1. Money shot

My submission for the Vegebul smutfest 2018.

My first attempt in writing. English isn't my first language so be prepared for extra mistakes, what is readable is because the amazing Rockykelboa helped me edit this shit.

This chapter is heavily based/mixed with a movie scene but I'll say which one at the end of the notes and see if you can guess it.

* * *

Besides him and his wife, the reserved room where the event was taking place hosted six other couples. He didn't bother wearing a mask like other guests. People knew who he was whether he wanted or not. As a Congressman, it was inevitable. What bothered him was that people would assume because he was a man in a position of power he had a taste for these kinds of places. He cursed his horny wife for the thousand time.

He couldn't complain about his sex life, his wife was a polite, reserved woman on the outside, but she quickly transformed into a slut in the inside their bedroom. She was wearing a blonde wig to disguise her black hair, and he unconsciously related each hair color to her two personalities.

"Which one do you like?"

She interrupted his thoughts, and without glancing around he said, "Don't care, you choose."

"There's that brunette girl, or the one with the red hair, or the woman in the corner that looks like me if you don't want to go wild." He gave her a murderous look for her mocking way of calling him boring, but she ignored him. "There's another girl with a blonde wig and the weird woman with the blue one."

Not too obvious, he looked through the tenuous neon lights and spotted each woman his wife had pointed, the blue wig highlighting.

Although he knew she had blue hair, she was wearing a short lavender wig. How his wife mistook the colors, he didn't know. She looked up from her drink, their gazes held for a minute until she broke it with a knowing smirk. Vegeta cursed his wife for the millionth time.

* * *

"This room is taken."

He didn't move a muscle when the door opened, hoping whoever had entered the room would leave at his rude tone. They didn't. From the corner of his eye, he saw that a woman had stepped inside. She removed the coat she was wearing and stood next to the small circular table at the middle of the half moon couch.

"I haven't chosen a partner," he added, his back still facing her, the quilted couch much more interesting than somebody else's wife.

"My husband chose your wife, so I thought it would be proper."

Slowly, he turned around and faced the lavender wig-woman, hands in his pockets. Despite the cold look on his face and sneer that held the corner of his lips, all his focus was on her.

The wig had a short bangs that didn't reached her brows, poorly cut for a woman with her wealth. The lenght scoped her jaw in a defiantly way, without touching her almost bare shoulders. Her make up wasn't heavy, but she wore lavender eye-shadow, lip gloss and blush that accentuated her blue eyes and plump cheeks. Vegeta wasn't a man that took his time scrutinizing a woman's face, but he was refusing to acknowledge her skimpy attire.

He didn't need to ogle her to catch that she was wearing a thin purple bra with long straps like those useless curtains that didn't have a function other than block his view. Long thin straps that meet her thong at her hips, faintly brushing the skin there, but ended at her bottom checks, mockingly covering her. He didn't need to look down to notice her thong had a piece of shiny cloth in the front that could brighten the whole room if the light hit it just right, or that she was wearing a whore 90's style of high heels that he had never see a woman wear in public or private, until now.

Instead, he focused on her long earrings and how the small diamonds reflected the sky trapped in her eyes.

Everything about her said wild and bold, like her words. "I'm not surprised that you're here, though it's weird that you're still alone."

Fuck his wife.

"I am here to please my wife!" he revealed with a burst of embarrassment and regretted it instantly, unsure of what she would think of him. He had averted his gaze from hers, expecting laughter at his situation, but with a cold expression his eyes meet hers again. Warm swimming pools of understanding waited for him, and he almost wanted to take a dive until her mouth denied his words.

"Oh please! You politicians have a thing for forbidden fruits. Tell me, what's your kink? Thinking about your wife being fucked by someone else, or do you want to watch? You still have time, they just-"

"And what about you? Weren't you a romantic liberal, what happened to commitment and righteous decisions? Portraying yourself as a whore turns you on?"

To his astonishment, she dared to wink at him.

"A little, besides who doesn't want a free pass to cheat with no repercussions?"

He didn't buy her bluff.

She seemed so casual, winking at him, walking around the couch with a skilled fashion in those heels, laying sensually and slowly on her back on top of the flat couch armrest, lifting her legs up so he had no choice but to look at her. Displaying her body in imitation of a striper waiting for money, he wished he had dollar bills just to join her in her fantasy.

But they had meet briefly and loudly at one of her father galas three years ago. He, the cold right hand of a chairman in the Senate, gaining his position in Congress with the help of nasty and unethical comrades. She, the doctor's daughter with a pampered life, who defended the rights and necessities of the tax payers. It didn't take long for them to argue.

Any topic they could chose, their differing opinions collided. People came in and out of the conversation, but they debated the whole night. She was already engaged, claimed that it had been love at first sight.

But it wasn't that which made him doubt her honesty now. She was a woman with the privileges of an easy life, but she had proven her worth in the same field as his father, surpassing his name many times. She could have bought anything she wanted without moving a finger, but she earned her fortune making advances and discoveries in medicine. She was a woman with a free pass who instead chose the rough path.

She was here because her husband wanted to be.

In the corner of the room was a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She went for them, filled and handed him one. She took a sip from hers and knelt on the table. She agreed to play along with him and innocently offered, "Let's say that you're telling the truth. We still can have fun without breaking any vows."

They were at a fucking swingers party.

Vegeta lifted one brow as the only indication of his interest and brought the glass to his dry mouth.

"How so?"

There was something in the way she was looking at him, a playful smirk started to grow on her face and a strange dread settled in his gut.

"I can make you cum without touching you."

He spilled his drink at her forward statement, and she didn't pause for him to say a word, not that he had any.

"But I will need your help to do so. You will have to touch yourself."

"I thought you had plenty of guts, but you are just a vulgar woman." Vegeta found his speech after a few seconds, defenseless from her attacks. He felt his face get warmer and looked away from her, denying her the enjoyment of seeing him blush.

He didn't see her disappointment when she rose from the table, but heard her coarse tone, "Just as I thought, you are just another uptight lawyer. You're too conservative to let loose."

She put her coat on and went to the door, ready to leave, but he held it shut. Placing his hand over her head, he successfully avoided touching her.

"I bet I can do the same to you."

He felt her shudder with the humid air of the room sticking to her body, that he was sure it was burning, and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "But I will need your help to do so. You will have to do as I say."

She turned around to face him slowly, giving him time to back down. Whatever they were about to do, he knew it wasn't his forte. He was a man. He had a dick. What could he do without it? But if there was one true thing about Vegeta, it was that he never backed down from a challenge.

Being that close from her, allowed him the opportunity to appreciate that her eyes were the most teal shade he had ever seen and were currently piercing his common darken ones, until finally she made the first move, caressing his lips with her sweet breath.

"What do you want me to do?"

Suddenly, that strange dread found its place next to his hammering heart. It traveled through his ragged breath and stuck in his throat. His brain was ahead of his thoughts, but words were lost in the middle. Reliving his struggle, she took the lead and stood again on the center table.

A slow rock beat could be heard from the speaker above them, as he saw the woman's silhouette move in sync. Vegeta took a deep breath and drank the full, needed glass of champagne before he marched towards the couch. He sat in the middle and opened his eyes, ready to masturbate, watching a woman strip to her only spectator.

* * *

Her hips swung from side to side with the beat of the tempting tune. Her pale legs slightly bent at the knees, and her eyes were sparking blue notes of lust.

"Take off your bra," he commanded.

Without losing the beat, her hands moved to unclasped her top, savoring the task as if his eyes were the ones removing it. Two rounded mounds of ivory delight filled his vision. Their pinky buds that looked as bitable as exotic chocolate, and as the air of the room touch them, they hardened puckering, calling to him like a treat. Her hands cupped them instinctively, gently pressing them together in the middle of her chest. Her fingers slid down to her hips and went down to her legs as she simultaneously slid down to kneel. With her crouched on all fours in a submissive positon, his cock started throbbing to life. That's when it dawned in his mind that she was in control of his impulses, realizing too late that she could succeed in her goal.

He wouldn't allow her that, not yet at least.

"Nice wig." It was a strange compliment, but he did what he could.

"Thanks," she praised like a wicked little princess wanting the approbation of her daddy.

"You had me fooled at first. Of course, you wouldn't want to be recognized frequenting this place."

Vegeta expected to ruffle her feathers, not going as far to offend her. When she stood from the table, he knew he did. She didn't give him the time to dwell and went to the couch, walking around his form completely, evading contact. She bent over next to him exposing her round ass right in his face. Like a magnet, he was drawn to it, but stopped just in time, just in time to notice the tiny cloth was damp in the crotch, and he couldn't take it anymore. He took out his hard length and stroke it a few times to calm his pulsating veins.

"You might be a regular customer here, but I still have a reputation to save," she tried to hide the indignation in her tone, but he could hear it.

Was she comparing him with the lecherous men in the building?

Vegeta swiped his eyes from her barely covered cunt, to look at her icy eyes as he cleared her misunderstanding.

"This is my first time here, woman."

She stood and turned to face him, searching for lies in his infinite widow's peak, looking for crumbs in his permanent scowl. Finding none, her lips half curled in a sweet smile as she sat down on the flat back the couch to settle his assumption too.

"This is my first time here too."

Why he felt relieved at her confession, he couldn't answer. She kept still, staring at him with that sugary smile and those candy-like eyes until he understood. She was waiting for his commands. Obsidian eyes traced the curves of her pearly body. The flesh of her bare shoulders reflected pink neon lights, and her petite waist was perfect to rest his heavy hands. His gaze stopped at her knees, where they were blocking his view of her wetness.

"Spread them," he ordered in a grave voice, but the tease she was only gave him a peek of the treasure between her thighs.

"Wider," he demanded, annoyed.

Her right leg swung open, lifting to stretch across the back of the couch. Then her left leg repeated the motion, leaving her thong-covered womanhood on display. The shiny cloth covering her pelvis was bedazzled, as if a gold was hidden behind it. He was ready to open the coffer when her silky voice intervened, "Your wife is a lucky one. She gets to eat that every night."

Unwilling, his gaze went to hers and saw the hunger in her eyes. He followed their direction and noticed they were devouring his shaft. Tardily, he registered the envy in her tone.

"I would swallow you whole," she said as she licked her lips, and he couldn't help but to quicken his pace. "But I would take my time. First my tongue will worship your head like is the sweetest popsicle in the world" One of her hands ventured to caress her heavy breast and the other ghostly passed above her lips. "Then I will suck your engorged cock from the tip to the base, lubricating it with my saliva and your precum." To give him an idea of the picture, she slowly slid her finger inside of her mouth, and he felt his cock twitch with her juicy words. "And while you're hitting my throat, I would cream myself waiting for you to unload your cum in my mouth." Her hungry eyes met his wild ones, and he nearly came then and there.

Vegeta closed his eyes for a second to regain his composure. They weren't touching, and yet he felt like she had done what she said, he never felt his hand that slippery with only his lube.

"Show me," he almost pleaded.

Her dainty fingers budged the crotch of her panties, and her dripping pussy was finally released. Rosy lips of pleasure were pouting appetizingly at him, inviting him to taste and tease them. Her free hand rested on top of her thigh, ready -eager- to follow his instructions.

He'd reached uncharted territory, off his battlefield, but she was discreetly guiding him, allowing him a sense of leadership. With his ego, he must have felt disrespected by her condescending play.

Instead, Vegeta requested, "Wet your middle finger with your juices and touch your clit."

And was rewarded when she obeyed his voice like it was her subconscious, her body was only responding naturally. When she closed her eyes, he knew she trusted him with her pleasure, to drive her to down the final road to ecstasy. A quiet moan got stuck in her throat, silently begging for more.

"Thrust two fingers inside."

Her head rolled backwards and her left hand wandered up to caress her exposed neck. It pathed back down to her chest, and he dared to think she was touching herself because she had denied him the indulgence.

"Faster, woman!" he urged her.

But she wanted him to want her. His eyes glued to her weren't enough.

"Are you imagining your cock inside of me?"

A needy voice drew his gaze back to her flushed face, and his grip got tighter, strangling his dick with force. The woman had her eyelids scarcely open, and her lips indecisively pressed flat against each other before they opened.

Her hand ran faster.

"That you are shoving me against the table spreading my thighs so wide-" A moan that she failed to silence interrupted, leaving his balls stiff and firm.

Both were hot, hard and ready, but they wanted to win, or to come last, or first. Whatever it was, neither wanted to lose this fight, yet at the same time, both needed the other to beat them.

"Keep fingering yourself, but touch your clit with your thumb." He didn't need to see her anymore. Her gradually increasing groans were enough to keep him excited. Vegeta didn't knew where this libidinous man was coming from, but he didn't stop to think about it. His eyes closed as he rested his head in the coach, he focused on the ragged breath next to him and let her wanton voice steal some ripped growls from his throat.

"Are you imagining her?" she rudely asked.

His brows knitted in confusion, shooting back in her direction, wondering who she was referring? She only smirked, as if that was the answer she was waiting for.

"Touch..." he began, but the blood from his brain was currently busy pumping through his trembling body. His solid cock stole most of his thoughts.

Apparently, she was a mind reader, because she touched and pinched her nipple while adding another finger in her striking

"I'm gonna... Im gonna..." she wailed frantically, and he just wanted to see her, indecisive whether to glue his gaze to her flushed face or her abused pussy.

A whimper grew in the woman's throat, escaped her mouth in a powerful scream while her arms, legs, her whole body quaked and tensed. Vegeta heard a furious groan, belatedly realizing it was his own. He felt his hand rubbing out his shaft, faster and wilder, and hot blasts of cum shot across the floor.

* * *

The movie scene is from Closer


	2. Bites

Vegeta couldn't believe he was at another party like this.

Even though he didn't use his free pass for sex, the act he performed with the woman felt more insolent and lewd than anything he and his wife had done before.

His wife encouraged him to use his free pass, not for his benefit, but for her clear disadvantage in case he decided to surprise her with divorce.

The truth was, he came with hope—the hope to encounter her again.

He was a man of reason and action; he didn't had time to fantasize or think about what-ifs.

However, more than once, he caught himself staring at empty space, daydreaming of himself with her in that room—bending her over the rail to shove into her forcefully from behind, or sitting on that table while she rode his dick savagely, his hands pushing down her obliging hips. Even the cold floor was comfortable in his vision, chest to chest as he thrust her cunt violently while her legs encircled his waist.

He regretted not pinning her against the table or spreading her thighs the way she had narrated. He regretted not doing anything of it, and now, after he hadn't seen her in the reception area, he was regretting coming here again.

Many weeks had passed, and these events were secret and scheduled. Besides, she told him she didn't attend regularly. The chances of meeting her again were slim.

Fortunately for him, it was his lucky day.

Pacing back and forth in his private room, he heard the click of the opening door, but always expecting the worst, he tried to dissuade the intruder.

"This room is taken."

A lady-like snort sounded from the doorway.

"I know. I was expecting as much."

He turned, a little to fast for his liking, his eyes roaming all of her. She was wearing that lavender wig again, only this time, her attire didn't say, "I'm here to fuck." But he could hear that little blue skirt of hers whispering to him, "This is only for you."

"Well, which of us is lying about being a regular 'client' here?"

She was mocking him. Her playful face gave her away, but somehow, he didn't take offense. If anything, he was thinking how strike back at her.

"Not me. Do I need to remind you that you easily found my room both times? You must know the place very well."

His arms crossed over his chest, and he turned away from her just enough to keep her in his peripheral vision. Just that thought left a sour taste in his mouth. She murmured something under her breath, which he only grasped "looking" and "you."

Had she been looking for him?

He turned back in her direction as she faced away from him, but not quickly enough to hide her blush. Her heated face was enough to make the whole room feel like the hottest summer day.

"Were you pursuing me?" This is going to be rich, he thought, half grinning.

Her face turned crimson from embarrassment, and her lips parted in fascinating anguish while her mind seemed to be busy thinking of a rebuttal. She looked idiotically gorgeous.

"The first time, I was just curious to find you here, and I thought that a familiar face could help with this… fetish." Her eyes searched his like some strange form of apology. "I thought my husband had this weird thing for seeing his wife fucked by other men." Air blew from her lips when she laughed sarcastically. "Turns out, he just wants to fuck other women."

Her eyes looked everywhere but at him, her fingers playing with the last button of her pink shirt, trying to distract from the hurt sound of her voice. The room felt tight with her distress, and he hated it immediately. That wasn't what he was waiting for.

"And now?"

After a pause, her eyes glinted with an untamed filthiness, and her mouth was adorned with a mellow smile that evaporated the previous tension.

"Well I had fun last time. At first I didn't want to come again, but just thinking of our 'game' made me so wet that I hoped to run into you again."

He didn't let her confession get into his head. His dick, however, stirred to life.

"Honestly, I regretted that you hadn't fucked me, but I understand. It's nice to know that some men are still faithful."

He was.

Vegeta was faithful, but it was a matter of honor and pride, not love. Why would he pursue different women when he had a cunt in home waiting for him? If all women did what his wife did, why complicate things just to reach the same orgasm?

"You mind if we repeat our last session? You know, for our sacred vows."

But he didn't want to be faithful tonight, not with her—not after he spent day after day imagining things he hadn't done with her. The mere thought of their last time left him hard enough to seek out his wife and relieve his need. But it wasn't the same; he didn't feel the same explosion of his insides, the burning satisfaction that the wig-haired woman had left with the sole use of words. If by just watching her come, had he reached the best of his orgasms, what could he feel deep inside of her? Was this why people were treacherous?

Although her tone seemed coy, he knew better. Her lips turned up at the corners, and one slim brow arched as her eyes glowed mischievously.

A perfect cocky grin, he knew those too well.

He remained silent, hiding any emotion from his face; his hands rested in his pockets to appear unruffled. Even though, he circled her predatorily, like a lion cornering an antelope. She was meat he hadn't tasted before, and now he was hungry for it.

He sneered until he stood in front of her to see her reaction.

"What makes you think I want a repeat? I had my fill."

If indignation had a name, it would be Bulma.

He kept walking around her, but she refused to look at him, her nose as high as her heels

"Fine, stay here al-"

Suddenly, his chest was inches from her back, and that preposterous pose she had melted into heated tension. His breath caressed her ear, and he inhaled the scent coming from her pores. His body felt the heat radiating from hers, and he wanted nothing more than to drag her body and press it against his. But it was too risky.

"We have much more we can do."

Breaking their rule, his teeth nibbled the soft flesh of her earlobe, and an electrical wave coursed through her body.

At a leisurely pace, almost worriedly, she tilted her back until her body was pressed to his, she had a steady breath while he felt lightheaded for the lack of oxygen. He fisted his hands to prevent them from trembling until she dragged them to her waist, since then he held her tightly, unaware it was possessively.

Cheek to cheek, she let him set the rules this time.

"What do you want us to do?"

The pads of his digits were seared by the touch of her skin. His fingers pressed at her lower back while his thumbs brushed the bone of her hips. His hands traveled up her naked back, fingertips massaging along her spine, circling over her shoulder blades, and his palms pushed her down against her shoulders. He wanted to touch every part of her, her back, arms, legs. Everything, everywhere.

Even though her tits were bouncing up and down in his face, he couldn't draw his gaze from her lips. The fleshy parts that were open, the plump salmon of her mouth, and he was fantasizing tasting them. It occurred to him, that he could; he set the rules for the night.

How far could she go? How far did he want to go?

As if reading his thoughts, she slammed her mouth against his. She tasted delicious, like summer and happiness; the kiss was firm and sharp. Her hands firmly held his face in place, but her tongue redefined the meaning of passion. It traced over his lips, like searching for a key trying to unlock his entrance, and dove in when she found the master one.

She sucked at his lower lip, and he pulled away when a sudden pain cursed his mouth.

A merciless look regarded him, pouty lips stained with scarlet droplets that he realized was his blood.

She had to pay.

With a firm grip on her waist, he pulled her deeper into his cock. Her round ass hit his thighs with every thrust she made. She was riding him at an unruly pace, holding him, clutching his neck to prevent herself from falling from the highest cliff.

He wouln't let her fall.

Sharp canines sunk into her throat, and his tongue lapped at the sweat, as if tasting lust in her perspiration. Her hands no longer held his neck. Instead, they pulled at his hair with a desperate, encouraging plea.

In a swift motion, he managed to lower her back onto the couch. His tongue traveled from her stomach to her ample breast, and when she arched her back, he gently bit one nipple. Her hips not so gently bucked against his. He pressed her to the couch, but he still wanted to drink from those succulent lips. His face searched for hers, but her mouth hid in his throat, those lips releasing their muffle screams into his shoulder.

Then, Vegeta felt the stimulating sensation of pain when her bite released his shoulder. Not that his wife never bite him; she'd done it before, but it never had a big effect on him—always too early or too hard. This woman, this Bulma, in the perfect moment, sent a thunderous electric wave that traveled from her bite to his groin.

He was thrusting deeper, faster, harder, and she was biting stronger, firmer, sharper. And as they came together with a blissful pain, he wondered how many more secrets about him she could uncover? How many times could they meet again, and what other nasty things would she do to him?


	3. Beads

Bulma was flat on her tummy, shuddering, as he lay on top of her, panting in the crook of her shoulder.

"That was fun," she cracked with an amorous laugh.

It was evidently, after their third time together, that she could come faster with him.

They had decided to keep seeing each other at those parties. Both had busy agendas with jobs that frequently required travel and left them with little free time, but he and her husband had to be at the Capitol one week a month. The timing was perfect; at the end of the weeklong sessions, the congressmen wanted their minds as far as possible from the laws.

That her husband gladly agreed to her offer hadn't surprised her; both times he left the event very pleased. His flirtatiousness had always enraged her, to the point that she was even jealous of her own shadow, but now, she didn't so much care, because she too left the place satisfied.

They didn't sign a declaration of exclusiveness, no statutes or regulations were voiced but three principle articles were entailed.

Art. 1.- Besides our mates, we will be exclusive. Clause A: If our companions choose different people each time, that's their preference.

Art. 2.- We will not announce this agreement to our partners. Clause A: It will arouse suspicion and we don't want that.

Art. 3.- Don't get attached. Clause A: We are married to other people, Clause B: This is just sex

Now was their fifth time together, and it took Vegeta less than twenty minutes to reach his orgasm, and her less than fifteen. Every position she fantasized performing, he'd wonderfully execute. Still, she wanted to push his limits and see how far he would take her.

"Do you mind if I play with a few toys? I came so fast that I forgot we could use them."

Toys? Quizzically, he searched the room and noticed she had laid a big violet bag on the floor. His softening cock was still inside her when she pushed her hips up, milking him so slowly, stealing an embarrassing whimper.

"Or we can stay like this, your rules today."

Like many men, Vegeta thought his libido was high, stronger than others. His wife, like many wives, opened her legs in waiting for her husband to bring her orgasm, and she came easily. But after his third time with this woman, it was evident that he knew nothing about women with high standards in bed. Despite being the best and superior to others when it came to sex, he was nothing to this orgasmic lady. He wanted to beat every test she set.

One blue eye regarded him from the corner of his eyes. He grunted in response, went to get her bag, and dropped it unceremoniously next to her.

Bulma slowly dug around inside of it, inspecting his reaction as she pulled out toy after toy. His eyes jutted in astonishment as different sized, colored and scented dildos; cock rings, cuffs, lubricants and things she knew he didn't know the names of exited the bag . Okay, she thought, this is his line. But that thought rapidly vanished when his face shifted. He was grateful she had brought new packages to use only with him.

Oh, if he knew.

"I don't know what you like, so I bought what I'm curious to use. My husband thinks his dick is enough." She didn't even try to hide the disdain in her voice.

A long purple string with small balls caught his attention. It resembled a rosary, and she felt instantly sinful for it. He sent her an accusatory glare that left a blush on her cheeks.

"We don't have to use all of them!"

She had tried to snatch the beads from him, but he was faster.

"Are you curious to use this, woman?" A challenging brow lifted above his eye, but she misunderstood it as judgement

Bulma turned her gaze away. "I can explore my pleasure too, you know."

It wasn't her intention, but she was projecting onto him years and years of the old notion that 'girls should be sinless'. It was bad enough that her husband wasn't interested in indulging her basic fantasies, but now even her flame condemned her vulgarities?

Was she a nymphomaniac?

"And my name is Bulma," she muttered between her teeth.

Strong fingers on her jaw turned her head until she met his eyes again. She gave him a hard expression, daring him to point a finger at her and blame her of obscenity in the middle of their indecency. He returned one of his own. His twitching cheek said, "don't compare me with that poor excuse of a husband." While the suggestive way his eyes danced across her face, were telling her that he wanted to explore her fantasies just as badly.

He pressed his mouth forcefully against hers until her lips parted in defeat.

She was a leader in her work, a boss of minions, a commander of those beneath her. Not here. As domineering as she seemed, she wanted someone who could overpower her in sex, take the reins of her satisfaction and make her obedient to his commands.

"Lay down on fours."

The guttural sound that came from the depths of his diaphragm made his vocals cords vibrate along with her desire. The independent woman in her rejected the command, while the slave in her rejoiced. Stubbornly, she was about to protest when he let out the airstream of his lungs more fiercely than before.

"On all fours, I said!"

With some obstinacy, she complied. She placed the palms of her hands on the couch and supported her torso, while her knees rested near the edge, both feet in the air. She was a perfect table. "If you-"

"Don't talk." He didn't let her start, unkindly reminding her of her own words. "I make the rules tonight."

Vegeta stood next to her and grabbed a bottle of lubricant, letting the oil drip across her lower back and ass.

Bulma flinched in reflex as the cold liquid hit her intimate parts.

Though it warmed quickly on her skin. With every order, her body heated, and the liquid less resembled glacial waters. He roamed his hands across the expanse of her back, massaging gently over her derrière and down her thighs, heating the fluid with the slow friction of his hands across her flesh.

"You can only speak when I speak to you." His fingers ran along her spine, and Vegeta marveled on how appetizing was the vision of oil in her skin, as if she was a treat covered with caramel.

With the forceful sound of his voice, her limbs went numb with yearning. Bulma arched her back a fraction while her pride endured the temptation to submit.

"You will call me master otherwise get punished." A little to hard his palm smacked her ass, and she involuntary spread her legs apart.

He had never been aggressive with his wife, who whined at the smallest ache. In no time, it aroused him, in spite of that, he dared to push his self-imposed boundaries. His palm left a red stain on her buttock; however, her body twitched in response while her moisture unfoldded to slide down her thighs. He could smack her all night just to see her squirm.

"I will do anything I want to you, and you will not resist." One lubricated finger penetrated between her lips, gradually, and a whimper of relief escaped her mouth. Her body shivered at the minimal contact he made, and her asshole flinched in anticipation. She couldn't decide if she was relieved or saddened.

Blinded by her enjoyment, she didn't notice the struggle with which he voiced his next demand.

"Tonight, I own you, your pleasure is mine to explore." Another finger joined her anxious core, and her arms gave out, leaving her on elbows and knees.

He fingered her faster, his vexed heartbeat setting the pace. She didn't know the effort it took to claim that he owned her.

Just for the night.

Regardless of how he felt, he was determined to participate in her most depraved fantasies. He knew her husband never would.

"Tonight, you're mine. Are we clear?" He removed his fingers only to press his thumb against her pulsating nub of nerves, and with the other hand, led the head of the first bead to kiss her rear end.

When he started moving his thumb in circles, slowly inserting the lewd rosary in her back door, her arms fully collapsed, and her chest laid bare against the cold quilted couch. This man finally made her relinquish the hold on her pleasure, and willingly she give it to him.

Her backside glistened temptingly with the lube he had spread over her, and his cock started to throb to life once again, aroused by the moans she was giving him. But he went completely hard when, between gasps of urgent devotion, she only said, "Yes... master."


	4. Cuckholding

Vegeta impatiently tapped his fingers on his biceps over his crossed arms. The waiter had already brought him the bill, and the table had been cleaned, but his damned wife had not returned from the restroom.

The week in the Capitol had been extended a few more days, and he was in a particularly bad mood because he had missed his monthly appointment.

Eventually, he heard the annoying tick tick of her heels.

"Honey, look who I ran into," his wife happily sang in the air, and he shrugged at the name-calling.

"Launch, you know how I loathe..." but the words died in his mouth.

Next to his wife was Bulma in the most desirable red dress he had seen a woman wear. Despite that she wasn't wearing her lavender wig that he had, unconsciously, started to love, he saw the same impish blue eyes under her blue bangs, and her pouty lips hid a playful smirk from the others, because it was directed only to him.

But his moment of admiration was short lived. Arm around her waist, next to her was her husband. He hated the gesture instantly, not for the possessive way he felt, but because it was the perfect visage of a man who flaunted a trophy wife. He held her more like a trophy than a wife.

The man was tall, remarkably tall, still Vegeta knew he could easily take him down. He knew his type, and he knew him too well. He was the minority leader of the opposition in the Senate.

"Vegeta, how's the office? Busy for the upcoming elections?"

But Vegeta ignored him and hotly asked his wife, "Are you ready to go?"

Bulma intercepted, "Yes she is, but you are coming with us."

"Excuse me?" he turned his murderous glare to her and didn't hide his rude tone.

"Come on, man. This session feels like hell; take a drink with us, chill out," the other congressman added.

Vegeta gazed at the couple with awareness.

He had a reason why didn't want to go.

He had seen them in public once, days after his second time with the woman.

The waterfall of her hair had flaunted into the room; she was an oasis in the deserted place; a drink from her lips could satiate the thirstiest man in the world. Nonetheless, her waters were wasted on an inebriate man. Her husband had kissed her, fast and meaningless, and went to brag with his fellows about that swinger party. Her face fell momentary from embarrassment, but she put on a false prurient mask. Faking bravery, she ogled every man in the room until she met eyes with him. She could act all she wanted, but she couldn't lie to him. He had seen true lust in those wetted eyes, her lips parted with real desire, and even though her hair had been fake, her climax wasn't. This blue haired woman wasn't the same that brought his new craving, she belonged to that man. His minx had lavender hair with no untrue wishes. Vegeta left the place immediately, and the next time they were together had asked her to not remove her false hair.

He stood still, thinking how he could flee from the place and leave this version of the woman that wasn't his, when Launch nervously interrupted before the conversation turned into a heated argument.

"Bulma invited us to her house, Vegeta." Knowing him, she put her hands on his chest to stop his increasing rage.

Bulma eyes widened.

"Come on, a little chit chat wont hurt you?" With smug confidence, Bulma regarded Vegeta, but he only saw her hands resting in her husband chest. Purposely, he grabbed his wife by the waist.

Showing off.

They glared at each other, sending daggers between them, aware of the tension of the moment.

But Bulma's husband took out the knife and cut it.

"I can't see how he makes you scream when I can't," he thought he said in her ear, but all of them heard.

Her face crumpled instantly, the daggers turned into feathers, red eyes with furor melted to blue oceans of trepidation as she bit her lower lip with nervousness. For the first time, he saw misgiving in her features, and his gut pulsated with an unnamed feeling.

Well, he made the tension worse.

"Fine, lead the way."

* * *

His wife was hysterically laughing at some poor joke of Bulma's husband; Bulma however looked bored, as if she heard the same joke over and over.

"See Bulma, someone appreciate my jokes. She makes my day hard more times than my dick, am I right?" her husband said shaking her playfully by the shoulders, directing the last line to Vegeta.

The man had upped the bar of hatred Vegeta could feel towards another human being. He didn't know what he found more abhorrant about him, the casual way he acknowledged Vegeta had fucked his wife or how he blamed her for his lack of satisfaction.

Despite the apprehension, Vegeta felt the need to discuss his sexual moments with Bulma, the need to defend her aptness was higher.

"Perhaps your dick is the problem, I had no problem with her."

He didn't want to see her face; it repulsed him the way he talked about her, as if she was just a whore he had fucked the other night. Even so, his gaze found hers and perplexed him. Her diamond eyes shone with gratitude, and her pearly face thankful that someone had encouraged her desires.

He almost yelled to the room, 'shouldn't that be your fucking husband?'

Instead Vegeta felt smug pride that he was the one who had done it.

"Nah man, your wife sure give me hard balls quickly."

Like any woman would do? He thought.

"Well, I had no problems with him either," his wife timidly tried to add to the conversation.

Oh please, Vegeta almost rolled his eyes. Launch was the easier woman to please if that was the matter. Missionary, doggystyle or cowgirl and she was coming. Of course, he couldn't say that of his own wife. Wanting the conversation to be over, he crossed his arms and turned away.

Surprising all of them, Bulma suggested

"Maybe you should show him."

Three pairs of incredulous eyes turned their attention on her.

Her husband had a hard time understanding what she meant, but slowly a lewd smile appeared on his face.

The other woman faced many emotions in just a few seconds: shock, yearning, stupefied, coveting, mistrust, and many more.

Vegeta on his part was the only one in vocalize his thoughts.

"WHAT?" He roared incredulously.

How can she have suggested that? Six months ago, Bulma had apologized silently for her husband's fetishes, and now she was encouraging them?

And what about him? Did he mean nothing to her?

Did their meetings mean anything to her?

It wasn't just about the sex; it had been the best sex he had ever had, but it was beyond that. They always talked for long after finishing; they knew people around them were still switching couples, taking pills to last longer, repeating the acts of sins. They instead argued over everything and nothing.

How could she expose them like that?

She had confessed her most secret desires in the confines of their room, unburdening her fears.

'If he leaves me for somebody else, people will know it was because of me'

Bulma had spent her youth submerged in her work, and her previous relationships hadn't lasted more than a year. Her face occasionally appeared in the tabloids with captions such as 'Bulma Briefs: Too busy to love' or 'Another man that flies away from her'. When she got married the captions changed to 'How long will the marriage last?' and 'Divorce is around the corner'. She feigned ignorance, that they didn't get to her. But they did.

And him, he had opened up to her in a way that he hadn't with his wife, or anyone else. He had voiced his big ambitions and how hard he fought for them, how he had to crawl to the top of the pyramid of power doing corrupted acts that were against his moral code. For the first time, he had made the mistake of revealing secrets of the congress, that if her husband knew, could help them win the upcoming elections. That's why the week had extended, Vegeta's side of the congress was winning and the opposition didn't know how to stop them. She could have helped her husband, but she didn't.

What did all of this mean to her?

"Oh yes baby, I want to see that hole of yours pounded by somebody else."

Of course, he would! What was wrong with that fucking idiot? If Bulma were his wife, he wouldn't let another man see her, much less touch her. If she were his, she wouldn't have to hide her true colors under some wig.

But she wasn't his. She belonged to the other man. Did she want to please her husband?

That thought made Vegeta snarl.

"Well if he doesn't want to, maybe next time I can see you riding some other man's dick?"

It made Vegeta stand.

"I'll show you how to please your wife," he paused and looked at his wife. "You can fuck her if she wants."

Launch turned into the perfect incarnation of smuttiness, and Vegeta could perfectly imagine her blonde wig, her worked up voice made apparent her own arousal.

"Does it excite you watching me being fucked by someone else Vegeta?"

"Yes," he agreed.

But it wasn't for her, his answer. He withdrew his onyx gaze and looked straight at the azure eyes in front of him; they pleaded to him. ' _Show him, make me scream like he never will_ '.

Yes he answered.

In three strikes, he reached for Bulma, removed her flesh from her husband lap and rested her body on the couch opposite of him. His fingers slid down the zipper on her side and removed her dress rapidly. She had tried to remove her undergarments quickly but he stopped her. She was wearing a boring black set of underwear, and he had seen her most intrepid sets of lingerie. His questioning brow lifted with amusement.

"If I knew this would happen, I would have worn my better set," Bulma joked.

Vegeta amusement stopped. His mouth reprimanded hers with a sudden intense kiss.

No, she couldn't go carelessly saying things like that, confusing his brain not knowing if she meant wearing the lingerie for him or for _**him**_.

The kiss broke allowing them to breathe again, and Vegeta undressed hastily; he hovered over her form, and when he noticed his arms were shaking, he studied her. She was trembling under him too, but he knew it wasn't only desire perspiring from her pores, she was mirroring his hesitation.

He was frightened of what they could see, petrified to reveal not only to them but to himself, to her, what was really happening between them.

 _Art. 3 Clause B: This is just sex_

But both of them knew there was more under the nasty surface.

He spread her legs apart knowing he could get lost in between her thighs, he kissed her drunkenly, aware of the addictive taste her mouth provided; he sank into her core, admitting he wanted to do it more, only to her, only him.

Vegeta sunk to the hilt at the first stroke; she was beyond wet. As he pulled out, just to strike back with more force, she whimpered, squirming pitiless under him and wrapping her arms around him to press his body against hers. He let his hard muscles grind her petite form and traveled his wandering hands in the valley of her breast. Full in his palm, he pressed her ripe fruits, clenching a loud moan from her trembling lips. His coarse lips slanted hers in a tender, yet demanding fashion and his tongue tasted the trace of wine from hers. Gently sucking at her neck, he kissed his way down to her mounds. Her back arched when he sucked on her supple breasts and her cheeky nipples hardened when his teeth poked at the sensitive nub.

She was like warm butter, melting in response to his burning touch; all he wanted was to excite her, stimulate her most hidden corner, find all her concealed erogenous zones and overwhelm them with magnificent sensations of joy.

Her lids were fully closed while her lips fully open, with every shove into her, loud moans of pleasure made her quiver chest to chest with him. She was about to scream her release, his name about to part her mouth.

Blue Bulma was about to be his.

"Scream his name," Vegeta instructed near her swollen plums.

His voice, alien with emotions, carried abhorrence and wrath for what he asked, but dread and panic if the other couple uncovered what was growing between them. Turquoise pearls of disbelief opened with abnegation, demanding explanation of such erroneous command.

He lowered his mouth next to her ear and whispered furiously, "Scream his name when you cum, scream it while I'm inside of you." His pace increased with wildness, hitting her most sensitive spots making her do what she was told, if he asked for bloody murder from her in her state, she couldn't have denied it.

In a lofty scream Bulma's voice filled the room "Oh Raditz!"

He ceased moving almost every muscle of his body; his brain wasn't ready for his own reaction.

"Oh yes baby, do you like that little whore? Aren't you the biggest slut?"

Vegeta turned in Raditz direction, his body shook with adrenaline and rage.

A tiny set of white teeth pulled his earlobe, snacking back his attention. Bulma was proclaiming his time with her, and the world reduced to just the two of them. Only to her ears he instructed again.

"Scream his name," one hard stroke hit her. "When he is fucking you, scream his name thinking of me making you cum." His thickness slid in and out of her smooth walls. "Recall every thrust I made into you." Balls deep into her, he pulled harder, "Scream his name when you want to scream mine."

In a moment of vulnerability, he allowed his eyes to search her face, awaiting a refusal of his orders. Her hands grabbed his face desperately and her mouth stole the air inside his lungs, her insides were spasming, her pussy getting tighter, and her face detached from his, panting over his lips.

Her gaze trapped him in a juncture of acceptance, an instant of comprehension and a timeless agreement. She had seen his eyes directly, passing inside of his soul when screamed again.

"Raditz, oh Raditz I'm coming."

* * *

This fic but mostly this chapter was inspired by this drawing

post/177248396695/ménage-à-trois-raditzbulmavegeta-3


	5. Pegging

How could he not have expected to see her there? If you had asked him if he expected doctors and engineers in the National Convention of Space and Medicine, he would have told you 'of course you moron' but if you had asked him, if his blue demon of temptation, exiled from heaven, to attend this mortal affair, he would have denied it.

It was not like he did not know who she was, that information was placed at the back of his brain; for him, she was something else.

She was seduction in the flesh, temptation in a woman's body, lust escaped from the reins of hell going havoc in the land of mortals.

And he her biggest fool.

It had been months since the last time he saw her, the last time he lost control of his body, consumed by her arsonist ways.

Vegeta had left with instructions for her. He should have felt manly knowing she would be thinking of him when her husband was inside of her, that when she screamed her husband's name would be thinking of his.

He only felt worse.

In his mind, Bulma agreed to be his; he shredded her lavender wig and let her blue hair fly. The blue demon had landed in his territory, and he captured her, but not to send her back to be trapped in hell, if not, to let her run free in the lands of heaven, so that she could become an angel and make his terrestrial world a sacred place.

He was livid thinking of her with open legs under someone else, someone that wasn't him, enraged when he thought of her husband on top her, her husband who had every right to do it, but had not managed to tame her.

Although Vegeta succeeded in claiming her, she still belonged to him.

Because of that, every time his wife had suggested attending other swinger party, he immediately refused with the pretext of the upcoming elections.

What was the point? A monthly appointment with a woman who had to hide her true colors to be his? In that case, he didn't want to face her ever again.

And here he was, in a convention where she was the star.

The National Aeronautics and Space Administration had finally discovered how to manipulate gravity in aerospace vessels. Her research was going to make space travel possible.

Slightly, he tried to avoid her during the event but failed miserably. With that hair it was impossible, he lied to himself, but deep down, he knew how deliberately he tried to know where she was at every moment.

Notwithstanding that she was dressed in professional attire, she was still the most alluring woman in the room. She was wearing a large white lab coat with her family company logo on the front. Under her arm, she carried a folder with tons of paper about her research, and on her nose rested a tiny set of glasses. Nevertheless, underneath her coat she wore a tight navy dress that accentuated her curvy figure, a peek of cleavage, not too much to be vulgar, but not too little to not drag his gaze down, and pumps with a small heel, comfy enough for a restless day but perfect to still look charming

She was no angel, no demon. She was Bulma; she was just a woman, a busy doctor that after some tiresome day, probably ended the night with a wild game in the bed.

Unexpectedly, Vegeta was daydreaming about her again; only this time, they weren't in their room at the swinger party.

 _He was in his studio, finishing some late work when she stepped in, bursting with rage, bitching at him for leaving his dumbbells on the floor. He had done it on purpose; he loved when her bosom bounced with her ranting, how she pointed a finger at him and voiced every swearword she knew while her face reddened with all the blood rushing to her cheeks. Suddenly, he grabbed her waist and sat her on the desk, kissing his apology down her neck; she resisted at first, turning her face away, but when he demanded space between her thighs, she encircled his hips with her legs, announcing his victory of the play. He promised not to do it again between heated kisses; she didn't believe him, scratching his scalp as punishment-_

A round of applause interrupted his thoughts.

Fuck. Was he fantasizing a domestic life with her?

For the first time, he had the courage to ask himself, what did all of this mean to him?

She walked down the podium and everybody surrounded her. Every man wanted a piece of her time, they talked to her and pried for her attention. Fools. She spoke to them in the most professional way, talking details about her research and her work. A silent smirk crossed his face, approving the way she was avoiding them, until quickly, he found himself at the same end of the other men.

She greeted him politely, said a brief of her work and parted ways to another conversation. No hidden smirks for him, no playful gaze, and no sensuality in her voice. If he thought he was mad before, rage was small sentiment now.

A hostess led the guests to an audiovisual room, where a documentary of her work was projected. The room was almost full, but he quickly spotted Bulma. She was at the end of the room with an open chair next to her.

He wasn't going to sit next to her; he didn't want to get slapped by her indifference again, but if she thought he would run away from her, she was mistaken. With little hesitation, he settled next to her. He was Vegeta; he wasn't scared of a female.

The time passed, and she didn't even blink in his direction. Frustrated at her indifference he leaned in to whisper, "Are you going to pretend that we don't know each other?"

With eyes focused on the screen in front of them, she spoke to him. "It's what you've been doing, I assumed you wanted the same from me."

"I was busy."

"As you can see, so was I."

She spoke with the coldest tone she had, and her crossed arms didn't leave space for fake apologies. Of all the moods that this woman could have, dispassionate was not the one he wanted.

"After the third time, you did not come to the parties, I concluded that you... ended things," she recounted with a bleakness in her voice. Her apathy had lowered, and she was giving him the opportunity to improve his answer, but Vegeta selfish as always, just heard what he wanted.

"Did you attend more events?" With the sudden rage that made him raise his voice, a few stares glanced in their direction but turned away when they didn't see anything interesting. After calming himself, he spoke lower this time but no less choleric. "Did you fuck others?"

It was her time to feel angry with the man. "Not that it's your fucking business, but no, I didn't."

Was that supposed to appease him? The hell it did. Not that it's your fucking business. It was; she was his. Even though she was in bed with her husband every night, Vegeta had claimed her as his, and she had agreed.

"Did you did what I to-"

"Yes, I did," she interrupted him; her tone was cutting. Her nostrils billowed with the hard inhales she was taking, and her flammable gaze could have burned the screen in front of them. A silence widened between them, whereas a longing creeped at him.

"Why did you stop attending the meetings?" She broke the silence after some time, just to leave him speechless again.

He was about to lie, "My... wife-" when she cut him off anew.

"Don't say your wife. After that demonstration in my house, I know she likes those kinds of parties."

She glanced in his direction, but he turned is gaze away from her eyes.

How could he explain? Did she believe in heaven and hell? Demons and angels?

It was beyond jealousy; he felt envious of her husband for sharing a bed with her, but the sentiment was indescribable for him. He felt that life had thrown a foul play at him, gambling with his wife at disloyalty, he found a person with whom he wanted to be loyal.

Damn. Had he fallen for her?

While marriage never meant anything to him, divorce did. Since he married his wife, his father in law had helped him get his position in the Senate, his shady connections and corrupted works favored his ascension. It had taken him three years with his wife to finally gain his position as a congressman. Would he throw that away for an affair with the woman? Just because he had been stupid enough to fall for her?

"I think you're are afraid," she offered when he failed to reply.

Afraid? Of her husband? Please, the moron was a weak worm.

"You are afraid of what I make you feel." Her voice tingled fervently and his heart started hammering his thorax. "You like the way you touch me and the way I touch you." Summoned by his errant thoughts, one of her hands rested in his inner thigh. "You are scared because you like these new things you didn't know you liked." Her fingers traced imaginary circles in his slacks sending blood to the wrong places. "And you are terrified of exploring more because I am the one who makes you feel this way and not your wife."

Her voice was a low whisper in the room, save that it was fueled with excitement, and her eyes that no longer were glued to screen but to him instead, were like avid flames of propane trying to turn fire in his gut. His head hurt from wondering if she was guessing how he felt or describing the way she felt.

His eyes darted around the place trying to see if someone had caught them, but apparently, her scientific work, equal as her body, was extraordinarily interesting. Scoffing, he crossed his arms and tried to persuade her rightful hit.

"What else can we explore that we have not done before?"

A dangerous grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, and without warning, her hand went to massage his already hard cock over the fabric of his pants as she leaned to whisper in his ear.

"We are in our room, at the swinger place, but this time you are the one on fours in the couch." Her fingers slid down and up his throbbing length, and he glanced around frantically, digits pressing in his biceps.

"I am behind you when you feel the tip of my harness in your ass," Her palm ground against his bulge while he couldn't stop his hips from budging back.

"Slowly, I push forward forcing myself inside of you" he gasped appalled when she fisted her hand over his dick.

"While my hand grabs your cock, to masturbate you." With the restraint of his clothes, her hand slid down in his dick a few times with a firm grip, until unexpectedly, she withdrew her hands and ministrations from him.

The stiffness of his body didn't calm when her tortuous hands left his body; the opposite, he tensed more when he didn't feel her touch. Everybody was immersed to the screen, while he had his mind far away from there.

'In their room'

He had never done what she said, as any macho would always refuse, but while she had her hand on his dick, he was anticipating the pressure in his asshole as if they were in fact in their room.

There was something about this woman that made him want to throw away his pretenses and lay bare with her, more than skin exposed.

When the lights turned on again he was already leaving the room, dragging her out with him.


	6. Titty fucking

What the fuck are you doing, Woman?" He exploded the moment they were alone and away from eavesdroppers.

Unruffled by his temper, her hands rested on her hips as she pressed her weight to the back of her heels; it was her 'that won't work on me' pose, and she knew she looked so hot when she did that.

"The same thing you did to me! Turning you hot and hard before leaving you high and dry."

Vegeta started pacing back and forth in the small office, his fingers intertwined in his hair, and she was sure he would rip it out.

"And what I was supposed to do? Keep fucking you once a month? Or in your house so that fucking idiot had a front seat?"

Bulma crossed her arms in defense, but her face was rebellious, one brow up and a chilled smirk; that was the pose of someone who already knew the answer. Forget that she looked sexy, he hated her cockiness. "You didn't mind before. What changed?"

He stopped, caught in her trap. The man would never admit that he was jealous of her husband. "I don't like an audience," he affirmed with disgust, but she knew that by now.

Hell, she hadn't liked her own idea after he stopped joining her at the swinger parties. She went too far and paid the price. It wasn't even something she wanted to do; she hated that her husband had enjoyed the number, but when Vegeta stepped in for her, defending her carnal wits, the ache between her legs grew, and the only man who could calm her was right in front her. Her body went vivid with the idea ' _Show this man how to fuck me.'_

However, her heart grew wild when she saw his dark eyes piercing into her soul. There was something behind his irises, a potent emotion that she didn't want to voice because it intimidated her.

Was she projecting her desires in the eyes of the man?

Then he kissed her like he was the thirstiest man in world that had just found a river.

At that moment, it didn't matter what he felt, because she acknowledged it was love that was running below her lust. She could be a married woman, but Vegeta owned her body and heart and could do whatever he pleased with her.

He explored her body like it was the map of a hidden treasure, and she wanted to shower him with gold. To her consternation, he stopped her and demanded the most outrageous request. It wasn't until he rode untamed into her, vociferating his obscure wishes, that she understood. If she wanted to be his, they had to keep the secret between them. And damn, she wanted to be possessed by him.

But her heart bursted with joy for a few days. After that day, he didn't attend any more of their dates, and her core bled with misery. He may own her, but she didn't own him.

And now, here he was, asking her nonsense when he was the one who owed her an explanation.

Vegeta regained his stoic stance, but she learned to read the true meanings in his nonchalant demeanor; she would have to drag the truth out of him.

"What were you expecting from me? After you told me to say his name, why did you run away?"

The question caught him off guard because his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

 _Because I want you; because I want you to think of me, only me._

Refusing to answer her, he turned and gave her his back, maybe to think of a lie, but it was too late; her heart was beating unrestrained while a new belief invaded her thoughts.

Can I own this man?

Her undisciplined body was drawn to his powerful form, excited by the idea of seducing the man to the point of seeing his restraint crumble under her forbidden impulses. Her digits pressed his upper back, feeling his muscles relax under her magic touch; her hands went down to his bottom, but she maneuvered them and caressed his shaft from behind; she didn't need much action, he was already aroused.

Bulma nibbled his ear gently, leaving kisses on his neck while speaking, making the little hairs there stand and a shiver run down his spine.

"I've been thinking about you, every thrust you gave me, all the games you let me play with you... our talks, or should I say our fights?"

He twirled irritated, holding her hands in his as he scowled at her.

"Enough. What the fuck happened with your precious reputation? You want everyone in here to know or what?"

"To know what? That you want me"

His eyes went to the door and back at her gaze. Vegeta was undecided whether to go to the door and leave her there or to engage her in whatever dangerous game was she playing. He tensed under her scrutiny, and she knew this was the point to fight if she wanted to win this war. Abruptly she fell to her knees, and he gripped the desk behind him when her hands expertly undid his pants.

He poorly tried to stop her, but she knew it was going to happen. "Are you insane? Someone could hear us!"

With a wicked smile, Bulma regarded him from below his waist. "Then you better keep quiet."

She freed his member from the restraint of his boxers, and the tip pointed sharply at her. How had he tried to stop her when his body obviously wanted her?

She licked the tip of his head stealing an inaudible gasp from him, and that's all she needed to keep going. She worked him gloriously from base to top, her tongue rapidly was replaced by her whole mouth, and he was at her mercy.

Had he locked the door?

One of her hands played with the sack of his balls, and he couldn't stop his knees from bending so he had to sit in the chair next to him. She stopped to grab some air, but her hands didn't leave him unattended.

"Like that much?" She teased him, firmly working him up and down. Words failed him, and he nodded desperately in case she was thinking of stopping.

Bulma realized how strained his body was; his hands had tightened over the chair armrests; his thighs were shaking a little, and his breath accelerated in seconds. Briefly, she wondered how long he had gone without cumming.

Maneuvering one hand under her lab coat, she slid down the straps of her dress, and her bra was in his view. His hands removed her bra, and she almost giggled. Two second ago he didn't want this to happen, and now he was more eager than her, but the black depths of his eyes ate her mounds in her naked glory, laying an ardent cloak of greed in her system that every silly thought she had was replaced with pure lust.

She took him in her mouth once more, more avidly than before, her crevice heavy with saliva, until smoothly shifting for her mounds, his dick wrapped between her warm breasts.

Slowly and loosely she began to drag his thick length against her soft skin, every slide more and more slicked with his precum. As the prison of her breasts narrowed around him, his heart started beating faster than ever; the room suddenly felt like a freezer and he, a volcano ready to erupt, fueled with the hot lava that was her body.

His hips danced in harmony with the bounce of her tits, and her pink nipples looked so shiny and wet that his mouth watered instantly. There was rare shine in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, as if he was a lucky man underneath a rain of money desperately trying to catch every single bill. He met her up and down movements, wanting to grab everything she was offering.

Would he do it? Accept everything she was offering? Freedom, lust, passion, need and much more.

Whatever his thinking evaporated when he felt the tip of his head being licked with the gentle touch of her tongue, the softy grainy terrain of her cavern pressing briefly on his sensitive flesh every time her torso slid down on him.

A unrepressed groan was his warning, but she ignored it, instead she quickened her speed; her breath was uneven, but his air completely gone along with his control. Like a teenage boy in his firsts days, he came unable to stop it; his seeds spread in her guilty cleavage, and his fingers intertwined in her hair with desperate need.

 _Please, don't let go._

His head fell back as he was steadying his heart and lungs. She had left him undone and the outside world didn't matter.

Too bad for him, like a cold bucket of ice, Bulma hit him with reality.

"I'm leaving him."

It was time to know who would stand as the winner. With her attack, she had gambled her longing for the man; she would know if she had succeeded in claiming ownership of him.

Would he take what she offering? He seemed to want, but…

"Why?" The furious eyes beneath his frowning brows only highlighted the loathing in his hoarse voice.

"What do you mean why? I can't be with him when the only thing I think about is being underneath you!" She adjusted her bra and dress properly, while he accommodated his pants.

The beating of her heart was threating to make a hole in her chest when the man had turned impassive, as if she hadn't confessed how much she wanted him.

Why couldn't he take it?

Shit… He really loves his wife, doesn't he?

"You knew the rules of this stupid deal. Don't blame me for the poor choice of husband you made, do both us a favor and don't look for me ever again, just because we are good between the sheets doesn't mean we should go further."

She snorted without mirth at the irony that they had never used sheets; one hand scratched her scalp with irritation, taking away her 'happy' demeanor. She undid the folds of her dress and put it in place. She was making time, stretching this moment with the man that had worshiped her body and stole her heart just to leave them scattered on the floor.

Did she imagine everything? Was she that desperate to be worshiped like a queen that she had imagined his yearning for her? Was she his whore?

With a grave expression, she questioned, "Are you sure?"

 _Please, say no._

"Yes."

Her bangs covered her clear eyes when her head fall down with purpose; a few tears were at the corner of her eyes, and she didn't want him to see them.

Well, if he loves her that much, he's gonna freak out when he finds out.

Bulma was leaving, but at the door paused and without looking at him announced, "I'm still leaving him. I sent the divorce papers one week ago."

She cranked her head to see him one last time; his stoic expression was the last thing she saw before going out of the room.

Out of his life.


	7. Rimming

They were in the front page of a national newspaper. The article had an extensive investigation of the flame between the two lovers, a congressman cheating on his wife with the wife of another congressman.

It was scandal.

Her father was moving all his contacts trying to stop the gossip and save her reputation, while the woman begged for forgiveness, not because she loved him, but it was not her intention to ruin his name.

Apparently, they had been in love since high school but life -her father- had kept them apart. She tried trick the media with her blonde wig but her face was instantly recognized.

In the front page of a national newspaper was a picture of his wife and Bulma's husband going into a hotel room. Raditz and Launch.

The article also had a picture of him and Bulma during the convention in the audiovisual room; she was murmuring close to his ear, and his face was in shock but had a blush in his cheeks. The reporter presupposed that she had tried to warn him of their partners' affair. She had already asked for divorce and was suggesting he do the same, but he didn't believe her, ignored her advice and left the convention noticeably angry. And then, a picture of only him going out of an office room where he had had a discussion with her.

For a newspaper they sure knew how to gossip, and like many gossip magazines, they were all wrong.

Vegeta should be angrier with Bulma for not warning him that she had figured out they were being fooled, but in that case, shouldn't he have noticed too? He had been so wrapped up in Bulma's legs, not wanting his wife to find out, that he had failed to see Launch was doing the same with Raditz.

Didn't amaze him that he had no felt jealousy, betrayal or even anger against Launch. Yet, he was mad at Bulma, but not for her missing warning.

It had been two months after the convention; now she was a free woman, and while the gossip revolved around his wife and her ex husband, there was a small picture of Bulma on a date with a baseball player. The caption read "Could her childhood friend be her true love?"

For the most part, he was angry with himself. Bulma had been wise enough to free herself from a boring, unnecessary marriage, without thinking of the cold tattle of politics she could find herself trapped. Whereas he was now in the middle of the useless extramarital fuss about a woman who he had married only because her father was his boss and it had helped him get into upper ranks.

He hadn't cared they weren't 'in love'— love was a useless sentiment in the rooms of power. When her father suggested the marriage, Vegeta didn't know it was because he was trying to separate Launch from a nobody attorney. He even thought he was lucky marrying a woman easy to please in bed who spread her legs effortlessly. Marriage was an institution, with privileges and obligations, nothing more.

Vegeta thought he didn't want to face a divorce, not against Launch, but against her father, out of respect for how he had helped him; he didn't finish reading the article when it dawned on him that he didn't owe anything to his father-in-law. He may have provided Vegeta with phone numbers and names in the laws, but it was Vegeta's work that led to his accession.

If he thought about it deeply, it was because of his father-in-law that it took him a lot to climb to the top. His name was instantly associated with corruption, so when Vegeta was introduced with his help, his fellows thought him equally corrupt.

The milestone in his insight, was realizing that had been the opposite with Raditz. When he married Bulma, her name helped him sneak his position, fast and effortlessly— the fucking idiot never realized how lucky he was and how easily he could have lost it all. Throughout the year, Vegeta had many opportunities to take everything away from him, and he stupidly let it pass time after time. Even four years ago, when he first meet Bulma, he had that chance. She had pulled his attention just with words: she was noisy, always speaking her mind without caring what people thought of her, daring, setting challenges higher and higher, and feral, showing no fear or weaknesses in any moment. If only then he had embraced his curiosity, he wouldn't be in this mess right now.

And lastly, he felt brainless. When she revealed that she was about to be a free woman, his chest felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from him, but his stupid mind reminded him that he wasn't free. When she confessed she was leaving her husband because she wanted him, he didn't confess how much he wanted her in return. He had stupidly chosen remain married to a woman that didn't stir any emotion in him, rather than explore the potent new feeling Bulma had planted on him.

How right she had been when she guessed he was afraid. It terrified him the way she would bat her charming eyelashes at him, and he would be on his knees adoring her center with unreasonable excitement. He was a man of reason, and logic didn't have space for him and Bulma—she would test his limits, and he would indulge her until she had no more boundaries to overcome, and he will be entirely uncovered.

He never cared for a woman more than a night, not even his wife had held his interest. He didn't know that passion and lust could be that powerful until he was caught in the blue web of seduction that Bulma had made for him.

And now she might be weaving one for another useless insect.

With precision, he signed the divorce papers and flew to the stadium where the Taitans would play tonight.

* * *

The suite was immense; you could throw a party in there, but at the same time was private. Not everyone was allowed, and while the spectators had a great view of the field, nobody could see the people inside.

Still, the room had a 'romantic' theme—a few vases with flowers over here, some strawberries with chocolate over there, candles and a sofa with a luscious form in the middle. Yamcha had done it purposely; it was obvious he wanted to score a home run with her tonight. It was their third date; he was ready to leave third base.

 _So romantic_.

"Hi, can I get a cheeseburger and more beers for suite A-05? Yes, Thanks, I'll leave the door open," Bulma hung up the phone already savoring the meat. She wasn't going to order a salad to watch a game!

After a few minutes, she heard the door opening when her head was digging inside of the fridge for some buzz, without looking instructed, "Can you leave it in the table, please?"

She was expecting the typical 'yes ma'am' of the worker, but silence she heard. Her eyes peered at the room from behind the fridge door and her heart stopped when she saw the man who had entered.

"Ve-Vegeta?"

He was pure handsomeness and virility. His biceps overstretched the long sleeves of his white buttoned shirt and his hands were inside the pockets of his black suit slacks. That unconcerned pose she loved and the dark gaze rooted her in the spot, almost made her forget all the anger she felt towards the man.

Almost.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Who let you inside?"

He remained serious, but not his stoic expression—his onyx orbs intense with an unfamiliar vision for her, nearly regret but mixed with confidence, as if deciding which one he would pick, perhaps both.

"I asked you, What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she snapped at him.

Vegeta did a quick scan of the room before rudely asked, "Did you fuck him already?"

A offended gasp tore from her lips as her hand went to her heart.

"What-... Who you think-! How dare you!" Her mouth hung open with incredulity and shock. _The nerve of the man!_ But her wrath easily took lead in the situation, and she closed The mini-fridge with fury.

"And what if I did? Huh? Who you think you are to ask me such question? We aren't lovers anymore. You made that very clear two months ago. I'm a free woman who can fuck whoever she pleases, and last time I checked you had a wife, Why do yo-"

"I'm not married anymore," he interrupted her tirade, effectively shutting her up.

The floor moved at his confession obliging her to ground her feet. His gaze open to her now— _I'm an idiot_ it said. Although her heart burst with glee, her rage clouded her. When she asked him to pick her, _**choose her**_ , she meant then and there, not when it was more convenient for him.

"And what? You think I'm going to crawl back at you? Gather the leftovers your wife didn't want? Well, you thought wrong!"

Her hands had fisted at her sides, hardly suppressing her rage; she was about to dismiss him when the cheers around them erupted with fury, the tv sound registering, " _Two innings more and the Taitans win the tournament."_

Her eyes went from the screen to his deciding gaze in seconds, and she knew it was too late to escape.

With a firm step, Vegeta approached her direction. She was frozen for a second but crossed her arms as protection from him. He grabbed her waist like it was the most natural thing to do, and she had to put her hands against his chest to create a barrier between them. She couldn't let her carnal desires for the man control her body.

Bulma was prepared for his rude assault—he demanded answers with his obliging machinery, and her shield was up; however, she was helpless when his lips pressed gently against her mouth, and when his tongue blandly asked for permission to part her lips, her walls started to fall. He always kissed her with rampant passion, desperately trying to prove his domain, heralding his title as alpha. Not this time, the kiss was the softest he had given her, sweetly brushing against her rims; his fingers didn't pressed possessively against her hips, they stroked delicately over her skin.

After infinite minutes, Vegeta stopped his sweet attack to ask her again, "Did you fuck him?" But gentler this time, anxious of her response.

Bulma wanted to lie merely to make him feel the same ire she felt, just to see the same jealousy running in his blood, but damn him, the fire in his eyes, it was different too. It wasn't the burning flames that consumed her body with a simple glance in her direction, no; it was a light bonfire warming her bones on a cold night in a forest.

She knew his fervor, the natural heat that emanated from his body and how he scorched her skin with one touch, but this, this hot sensation growing slowly, warming her flesh smoothly, it was new for her. Unlike him, she was desirous to explore the unknown feeling.

Barely moving her head she revealed no, and the breath he was holding caressed her lips mildly. Again, he pressed his mouth gently against hers, demolishing her walls completely while she kissed him back with decelerated speed.

Vegeta traced her jawline with his lips, nibbling softly at her earlobe and patting down to the junction of her shoulder and neck, he kissed a line in detection to her arm and retreated to her collarbone; with his fingers tips he mimicked the gentle movements on her other side, lingering silky in every spot.

His hands met in the first button of her blouse and before he started to undress her, he confessed:

"I'm a fucking moron. I thought that's what an affair did, make you doubt your loyalties to your partner, make you regret the stupid vows."

One button undone.

"I didn't realize earlier that I was never loyal to her; I never cheated, but just because it was beneath me."

Two buttons undone.

"I thought I had to let pass this obsession for your body, for your kisses, your taste. I tried to fuck somebody else, any cunt would work to help me forget about you."

A pause.

"But I couldn't."

Another button undone.

"These two months were hell knowing you were free, knowing someone else could claim you as his, and I would have to let you go."

Last button undone.

His index finger traced down her sternum, between the route of her mountains and passed her belly; parting her blouse open and revealing her tantalizing curves.

A tremulous growl tore from his throat at the sight in front of him, it was a blend between appreciation, for the fine lace that covered her mounds but fairly translucent to let him see her lovely nipples, and anger charged by his jealousy because he knew she didn't wear it for him.

Bulma was unmoving, rooted to the ground; her hands had fallen at her sides to let him have free rein of her body. His admission left her speechless, but she had to say something, claim, scream, complain, it didn't matter what, just say something!

"Vegeta you can't come and fuck me just because you want, I'm not-"

With a suffocating kiss, he quieted her again, and he sat her on the elevated side of the tantric divan. His upper form was pressed hard against her chest, and his arms held her waist with pressure; still, it wasn't possessive. He anchored his body to hers with a desperate need, maybe fearing it would be the last time. His respiration combined with hers when their foreheads touched.

Whispering in her mouth, lips brushing delicately, he denied, "I don't want to fuck, I want to have you."

Either his words, his embrace, or his eyes, he broke her in pieces and she tried to undress him urgently. He didn't let her. Grabbing both her hands in his, he dipped his head to kiss her mounds over the thin fabric. Vegeta could feel the hurried beat of her heart under his mouth; he let her get accustomed to his slow rhythm, tracing her bust with tenuous contact, but not once reached her sensitive buds. When he knew she wouldn't move, he let go of her hands and undid the clasp of her bra, finally baring her chest.

Not a second later he was lapping at her mounds, thankful for not having the interference of her clothes, his teeth biting gently at her prickly nipples, playing and teasing them, making Bulma pull her hair to avoid pulling his.

After her chest was red from his abuse, he put one hand in her back and one in her thorax to help her lay down in the couch, but two hands in his biceps stilled him. Teal doubting eyes questioned him.

' _What are you doing'_

It pained him that she had to ask, that she longer had reliance in him with her pleasure.

' _Trust me'_

A heavy second later, the uncertainty in her gaze cleared, and with faith she fall back on the couch, her head rested in diagonal to the ground as her legs splayed open at his sides.

His fingers pulled at her bottoms, dragging panties and shorts together to scatter them across the floor.

One last glance at her anticipating eyes before he dipped down to her folds.

Her thighs heated when, with gentleness, he kissed them, prolonging the touch of lips enough to leave her anticipating for more. Each kiss, closer and closer to her center, his fingers followed behind, tracing the same route. She felt Vegeta's breathe fan over her burning flesh before she took a needed big inhale of air.

His tongue pressed delicately at the little bell in her entrance, the sound traveling from her core to her mouth and leaving her body with a loud "Ahhh" from her lips; he started with long leisurely circles around her clit but gradually increased his pressure and tempo. His fingers let themselves inside, going in and out like welcomed guests, taking residence in her more vulnerable rooms; they teamed with his tongue and pressed together at her tip, leaving her sobbing with wanton.

Her lids closed at the sound of plastic paper unfolding, foreseeing his dick wrapped in a condom ready to break through her walls...

 _Wait…_

 _We never used condoms._

Suddenly, his tongue was clenching at her clit with unburdened wildness, but the heat of his mouth was replaced with fresh blows of air and she felt a little ball press against her nub. Her hips bucked from the divan notwithstanding his hands holding her thighs down. A tremor was growing in her lower belly threatening to scape in any moment, his tongue pass through her folds but kept going down, down and more down, until it pressed around the ring of her ass, her nails ripped at the couch to barely help her hold her orgasm.

Little spasms in her pussy lashed out untamed as he went back to lick and flick her lovely pearl, the fresh mint in his mouth chilling her burning core. The sportscaster voice announcing the last inning was muffled in the room full of her moans.

The sensations overwhelmed her when, lightly, his lips sucked her jewel into his mouth. Groaning loud, she announced her peak, but he pulled her all at once, obliging her to sit. The trace of mint in his cavern hardly recognizable with the taste of her flower in his lips

His fingers thrusting urgently into her with that passion, that savage she knew so well, but his kiss deep with neediness and desire as if his life had had an absence of them. The palm of his hand grinding over her clit, her arms embracing him in a strong grip, not caring anymore for his not-touching order, because she was moaning and squirming in his busy fingers, that kept going deeper and deeper until they reached that spot that makes her tremble and she was cumming, gasping and yelling in his open mouth.

As Vegeta saw her eyes rolling back, he visualized making a home in here, nestled between her thighs, waking in the mornings to hear her sing softly, moans of pleasure, drinking contently from her juices and take a meal of her body.

Bulma felt like a Koala bear, holding to a tree with such force that not even a demolishing crawler could make her fall. The tree holding her back.

His eyes widespread with adoration, not leaving hers.

She was in heaven. Vegeta had build an altar of her body; his mouth had prayed for forgiveness, and his tongue had pleaded for another opportunity. A sense of fulfillment ran in her bare flesh. He fully clothed and she totally naked, only admitted that she owned him. If someone came into the door they would think he just had his way with her, but she was conscious that he was surrendering, finally giving himself to her.

" _Yamcha scores a home run and the Taitans win the game!"_

The tv speaker interrupted the intimate moment and Bulma no longer felt breezy about her nakedness.

"You need to leave Vegeta, Yamcha owns this seats and he's coming after the game," she begged, dressing back and not looking in his direction. Her heart was pumping blood so fast that she didn't have any in her brain to assimilate what had just happened.

"Come with me, Bulma," his tone demanding but pleading the same.

Should she go?

"I..."

" _Hey B, is Yamcha, come over here to celebrate with me and the boys... I want to show you something... Please... I'll wait for you in the lobby."_

The phone speaker intercepted for her this time, and at last, she met Vegeta eyes.

"I have to go," she explained with a hint of hesitation in her response.

A flash of hurt crossed his gaze but with steadiness, he took out a plane ticket from inside his pockets.

"The plane goes out at midnight; don't be late."

' _ **Please show up**_ ' was unvoiced.

He put the ticket between her fingers, grabbed her neck with one hand, her waist with the other and gave her mouthful kiss. Hovering her mouth Vegeta dictated for her, "It doesn't matter who you are with, you can't deny you still want me. Let me have you. I crave for you to be mine."

He gave her pick on the lips before letting her go.


	8. Mile high club

I made a fanfic playlist in my tumblr (Iamnotatruefan) if yo want to check it out

* * *

"Passengers of flight Y385 please board by gate 3," informed a monotone voice in the speaker.

Vegeta checked his watch for the thousandth time in the last hour; uneasiness radiated from him. The waiting room was almost empty, and most of the passengers had already check in. He had arrived an hour earlier, so if Bulma came too early, he would be waiting for her with a bouquet of flowers, ready to take her as his.

Too optimistic for him, the plane was about to leave, and there was no sign of the woman.

 _She is late, she'll show up._

He repeated for the millionth time.

"...the Taitans won the tournament, but Yamcha wins the lottery with Bulma Briefs!" announced an animated male voice.

Vegeta turned instantly in the T.V.'s direction, a repeat of the match had been playing, but he hadn't paid any attention. Two sportscasters were discussing the game when images of Bulma and Yamcha in middle of the field appeared.

 _No._

"Yes, the lucky bastard got the chance to ask her out and proposed after the celebration! They've been dating for a month, but he couldn't wait," The two men cheered, their faces glowing with smiles that frightened Vegeta to the end. Then, there was Yamcha on one knee with a small box in his hands and the television repeated his words:

"Bulma, I've been in love with you since I met you when we were young. Unfortunately, someone went ahead of me," shout outs of disapproval interrupted him for a moment - at this point the whole country knew about her cheating husband - and Yamcha waited until there was silence again.

"But not tonight. Bulma will you marry me?"

 _No, no, nononono._

"Yes, our most talented doctor said yes!"

"Who would refuse to marry the top baseball player of the year?"

"Not her! But let me tell you that Yamcha caught her off guard, look how nervous she was!"

All cameras were on Bulma. Her skin was blanch, eyes bigger than skylight windows and mouth open in disbelief. A mere nod was her response, and the whole stadium went wild.

 _ **NO**_!

She meant no! Why were all of them celebrating? Couldn't they see that he had cornered her, forced her hand? She couldn't say no in national television!

She didn't want to say yes!

…did she?

"Mr. Vegeta we can't wait any longer, the plane is closing doors in 5 minutes" The stewardess informed him, destroying his thoughts and his heart.

Once last glance around the gate before he boarded the plane, throwing the flowers in the first trash can he saw.

* * *

First class only had twenty seats, and there was only one without a passenger, the one next to him.

With hope, he had stared at the door the remaining time before the plane took off; he even thought there was a small possibility that she had showed up when the plane was delayed because there was one last passenger boarding. It turned out it was some woman in economy class.

Had he arrived that late?

 _Of course imbecile! Unlike you, the other moron didn't hesitate to claim her; he saw gold in front of him and took it._

But why had she said yes? He had proof in his fingers that she still wanted him, he could still taste her desire for him on his lips and even saw in her eyes that she loved him.

So why in hell didn't she show up?

He looked outside the window, waiting for her to suddenly materialize in the clouds. With hopelessness, he rested his face in his hands

Was he condemned to be the other man?

 _ **Fuck!**_

There was a sudden turbulence, the plane jerked, swaying Vegeta in his seat. He turned in every direction waiting for the flight attendants to help him, to inform him what was going on, but everyone around him was imperturbable, motionless as if nothing was happening. Playing time backwards, slowly analyzing, he realized it wasn't the plane shaking, it was him.

 _Shit, shit, shit._

He needed air. His tie was choking him, and he tried to remove it; his fingers desperately tried to undo the knot but there was nothing around his neck.

Vegeta was in panic.

He needed to get out, grab some air, to be alone, but he was in a fucking plane.

Almost running he went to the toilet, closed the door and rested his palms on the end of the counter, trying to stabilize his respiration, but it only got worst, his hands were shaking and his body shivering.

 _He couldn't be the other man!_

In the reflection of the mirror, his face was restless, his brows furrowed with worry, and his eyes had a somber glow.

Fucking pity he had.

He had found a jewel so pure and valuable that could shame all his fortune, but because of his arrogance and stupidity, he didn't recognize its true value, and now he had lost it.

There was a small knock on the door but he ignored it

He opened the tap and cupped his hands under the cold jet of water. When they were full, he splashed his face, running his hands all over, his fingers went through his thick hair, breathing erratically.

Vegeta had never been in love; he didn't even know if he felt love for Bulma, but now he may not ever find out how deep his feelings were. If he just lusted after her body, everything would be simpler. He wanted to know her most secret desires, discover her untold ambitions, and spot her forbidden dreams. But it was beyond that, Vegeta wanted to be part of them, to be by her side when she realized them, and encourage her to have more.

There was someone outside trying to open the door, he focused his gaze in the red sign above the door indicating that someone was inside.

"It's occupied!" He shouted angrily. Couldn't they fucking read?!

He rubbed his face once more; his thumb and index finger pinched the bridge of his nose, and he sighed heavily.

 _He didn't want to be the other man!_

Forced to only see her once a month like their old arrangement, or if he was lucky, when her husband wouldn't be around. Always hiding from the media like his pathetic ex wife and her ex husband.

He couldn't avoid a grimace.

No. Even if he had arrived late today, he would fight for her. He would find a way to lure her again, win her body and steal her heart in the end.

 _ **He wasn't going to be the other man.**_

Unexpectedly the door opened and he twirled around to yell at the impatient passenger... only to find himself with his mouth agape in shock and his heart stuck in his throat. In front of him was the woman that was causing his internal crisis.

In a second, Vegeta committed to memory her image.

The first thing he noticed was that she had changed, wearing a tight purple dress, classy and flirty. The second thing he saw was that she had her lavender wig instead of her exotic blue hair. And the third was that the determination in her eyes had a small layer of incertitude covering them.

He wanted to erase it but didn't know how.

They were inches apart, but he knew if he didn't act right and fast, he would lose her - this time for good. She closed the small door behind her, not taking her gaze of him, deciding how she would start, but he didn't let her.

"I don't have a ring."

She was astonished when he started; she obviously had a speech for him, but he needed to amend his mistakes.

"Nor do I want to propose." A flash of disappointment crossed her face, but she didn't interrupt him.

"We both know how hypocritical a marriage can be," she smiled at the private joke but her eyes glinted with allusion when next he spoke.

"And I don't want that with you."

Bulma was paralyzed, her chest barely raising and failing, the only indication that she was breathing. Her doubt gone, she waited for his next step, and he dared to be brave, to reach for the unknown and explore it. Closing the small space between them, he caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, the touch electric and hot. He paused, gathering his thoughts, forcing his mind to be made up and be honest for once.

Determination and fondness in his gaze.

"I want you to be mine; I want to be yours, and the rest of the world can fuck off."

Vegeta dipped his head to give her a small kiss but to his surprise, Bulma pulled him down by the hem of his shirt and kissed him with unruly passion. It took him less than a second to respond to the wild gesture; his hands sneaked around her delicate form, holding her in a hard embrace, recalling greatly the heat of her body.

Her tongue played dangerously with his; her teeth tugged at his lower lip, and her fingers traced his hard chest.

Bulma was on fire, burning his flesh at the contact, but for once, he didn't care if he melted under her heat. He wanted to be consumed by her flames and turn to ashes with the power of her affection.

She pressed her form against his until there was no space between them, as if they would merge into one, compelling him to sink his digits over her delicious bottom, wanting all of her pressed against him. To his delight, she leaped to his hips as he lifted her to sit her on top of the small sink. Her bare legs encircled his waist and obliged him to grind against her awaiting core. He clasped his face to her luscious breasts. A growl was rising in his lungs, but he was forced to hold it when, with all her strength, she pulled his hair, one hand in his roots, the other at the end of his spikes and forced him to lock eyes with hers.

Her burning vision snared him in a suffocating fire.

"Tell me you meant it Vegeta," she began.

"I don't give a damn about facing the media tomorrow or in years to come, but I won't do it unless it's for the last time. I don't want to hide away like Launch, covering our encounters and concealing this thing I feel for you. Tell me you meant it Vegeta, and I will be yours."

Her unsteady heartbeat and troubled breathing forced her to end there, exposing herself one final time and giving him one last time to retreat.

The growl that had held, at last, tore from his lungs and vibrated in between their bodies, carrying his blinding yearning. The beast in him roared to be set free, but he tamed it, savoring the moment, inch by inch.

Tenderly, Vegeta removed her wig, and instead of tearing it to pieces like he imagined doing infinite times, gently, he placed it on the countertop. That Bulma, the one with obscene secrets and dirty wishes already belonged to him; he had owned her pleasure and desire a long time ago, and he will forever cherish her. But uncovered for him was a whole woman, that sure had secrets and hidden faces, but also had an open forthcoming nature. She was bold, insolent, strong, kind, tender and many more things.

He craved to have that woman, to fill the empty spaces of his life with her unexpected eccentricity, to be challenged by her ridiculous demands, and race her to the end of happiness, arriving together at the finish line.

Strong fingers against her jaw set her face in place as he met her gaze afresh. Her hard expression reminded him when she gave him the reins of her pleasure, how she had trusted him to foster them, and now she asked for more. To dominate and encourage the full woman in her, immaculate and flaws altogether.

His eyes promised the sun, the moon and furthermore.

"I don't know what it is about you that I want so bad, but I won't be pleased until you are mine," Vegeta professed as his mouth found hers in a ravenous kiss that sent her feelings to the skies, her lust flying around with the clouds and her senses higher than the plane.

The beast lashed out, nearly escaped his grip.

Eagerly he undid his pants, sliding down his trousers just enough to free his throbbing length that was begging to sink in her damp folds, ready to brand her with his mark. Hungrily, he lifted her dress and pressed his hard shaft to what he just discovered was her naked center. The tip of his head jammed her engorged clit, and he slid his length across her wet lips, teasing them, enticing the minx under him. Her lids closed as a tiny moan left her mouth, clawing her hands over his biceps in a wide plea, begging him to end her torment and take her once and for all.

Gently, he thrusted into her soaking cunt, expanding her walls slowly until he was thoroughly inside of her and overdid his withdrawal, relishing her contracting core around his cock, that both asked him to get on with it and to never end it.

Bulma's breath jerked.

Her voice rang with ardency, igniting her actions and words.

"I don't want to share you," She cautioned, biting at his upper lip as reprimand for future references.

"And I don't want to be shared," she warned.

His fingers dug deep in her flesh, sure spotting a bruise tomorrow morning that would only work to claim her, like a big lion marking his territory, but clearly understanding what she meant. He will be thankful for eternity to their cheating and lecherous ex-partners that had brought them together at that swingers party a year ago. But there was nothing in heaven, earth or hell that would make him take her to that place again. To let anybody else lay eyes, less their hands, on her.

"You are mine," Vegeta threatened, a primal urgency to lay claim in her beat it at the center of his chest, running and boiling his blood. She bit his scalp with her nails and pressed his mouth hard against hers, parting for air and speaking above his lips.

"Make me yours."

The beast was finally free of his grip.

In a swift motion, he spun her around and trapped her in the strength of his arms. Her hips squeezed across the plastic hand wash and she slammed her palms against the false wall, the small mirror in between her hands, and he saw her pebbled nipples begging for attention inside the restraining dress. He spilled out her breasts above her cleavage and palmed her alluring weight in his full hand, the pointy tip pressed in the inside of his palm as his lips kissed her neck.

She ground her ass against his cock, she needed to feel him inside of her again. His hot hard body pressing hers wasn't enough. When his fingers pressed the sensitive bud of her mounds, she almost moaned out loud in approval.

The thrill of being overheard assailed and lunged them toward pure ecstasy. Bulma melted into his arms, and Vegeta forgot any regard of modesty; the need to conquer and fulfill her surpassed any other thought.

From behind her, his cock was seeking out for her wet slit in between her thighs, they were deliciously pressing against each other, trapping his member between them in a poor mimicry of penetration. Until the head reached his point, forcing her lips open and sliding his hard shaft inside, pushing himself in, stretching with strong sharp thrusts inside her clenching core, going deeper, deeper and deeper.

He felt her body shiver, her knees trembling from the pressure building in her lower belly, but she leaned forward in the small space until her bust was pressed against the wall, the new position allowing him a new angle to keep driving into her faster and wilder.

Their body's swinging, meeting with each other enthusiastically, glowing.

Her little gasps were tarnishing the small mirror, and his chest contracted at the sound, but they escalated quickly to noisy moans, forcing Vegeta to cover her mouth with his hand, stifling her screams in his palm, and obliging him to bite her shoulder attempting to muffle his own.

His tongue burned when he traced her back, tasting her sweet sweat with a rich flavor of lust.

The pleasure erased the world outside, and he couldn't suffocate her wails anymore, didn't want to, because she was screaming his name, crying out her volition, as the whole plane hear her subdue to him "Ve-ge-taaa!" And her whole body shook, trembled and fused afire as her climax carried out her cries.

His hand encircled her neck from behind, anchoring himself to reality, because he was cumming, but kept sinking and sinking until he buried every piece of him in her, pressing their bodies together, blowing in their fire. His scorched flesh found relief in her lovely form that soothed his need and eased the palpitations of his heart.

"Bulma, My Bulma," the only plea he ever made.

* * *

 **BONUS:**

The little bundle of joy was snoring in the safety of his arms, content with being swung, as he rocked left and right in the big pink room.

Calm tap-tap of heels caught his hearing and he smirked privately.

The door opened quietly as a breeze of berries scented the room.

"Is she asleep?"

He nodded, and turned around to face the calm before it turned to storm.

 _She was beautiful._

"Where is Trunks?"

He sneered, disapproving his own words. "He is with the son of the stupid president."

She laughed, mellowed, crossing her arms and drawing his eyes to her bouncing breasts.

"It's your fault then. You kept taking him to the congress, and Goten was the only other kid around."

Her cocky grin and accusatory eyes were so right that he needed to twirl around to avoid them, irritated at her cleverness.

 _She was magnificent._

She laughed louder, covering her mouth with her hand to not wake up little Bra.

"Oh come on, you secretly admire Go-" but she interrupted herself when she took one step forward and her toes hit 50 pounds of metal, his "misplaced" dumbbells "Ahh, shit- fuuck!"

The girl stirred in his arms as he whirled back, not before he hid his cruel smile, and made a sound with his mouth as he placed a finger to his lips, shushing her.

Her nose flared, her eyes widened, and her index finger pointed criminally at him. Her pale skin blushed crimson with the anger in her blood. Her gaze promised murder.

 _She was gorgeous._

Clenching her teeth and fisting her hands, Bulma threatened.

"You will pay for this, Vegeta" And as swift as she entered, she left the room, leading her ire to their bedroom.

Proud of himself, Vegeta placed the baby in the crib, ran a digit in her round cheek, and wondered: when had his life become better than his fantasies?

* * *

If you got two notifications of the last chapter is because i had to delete it and upload it again. The html fucked up and it had a lot of mistakes. Sorry.

Thanks to those who spent their time reading this story and infinite thanks to rockykelboa for beta-read this story!


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